


Balance

by Kayim



Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jess isn't willing to feel helpless again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the team!fest at Primeval_Denial on Livejournal.

_"Never wish life were easier, wish that you were better."  
\-- Jim Rohn_

Jess has made her decision even before the ARC has been completely repaired.

There is chaos all around, with everyone pitching in to help with repairs. She's been on her hands and knees most of the morning under the ADD helping Connor to get it back up and running, and she's already laddered two pairs of tights. She's given in now and her legs are bare. 

Becker's just brought her a cup of tea, which she's sure isn't the most important thing the Head of Security should be doing, but she appreciates it more than she'll ever admit. She's barely had time to breathe the last few days, let alone worry about food and drink. None of them have.

She doesn't realise she's going to ask him until the words come out of her mouth, but she's relieved when she does.

"I need you to teach me to shoot."

To his credit, he doesn't laugh at her, but his reaction is the one she expected.

"You don't need to," he says, shaking his head. "I'm assigning a permanent team to the ARC who will stay here, no matter what. You and Lester and everyone else will be safe."

She’d known he was going to say that, and she's practised her arguments in the mirror for days, but when it comes down to it, all she can do is stand up straight, look him in the eyes and tell him. She keeps her voice calm and low – they may be friends, but she understands protocol and she will not fight with him in front of everyone. 

"Either you teach me to shoot, or I will find someone else here who will. And we both know that no one else is as good as you. If you really want me kept safe, you'll teach me what I need to know."

He looks at her, as if checking to see how serious she is, and he must be able to see something in her face that assures him she means what she says. 

The ARC shooting range is similar to the ones she's seen on TV, but there are differences. The paper targets on the wall are in dozens of sizes and shapes, designed to reflect the vast number of real life targets they might face on any average day. She's less interested in the human shaped ones and wants to work on the larger ones that she sees in her nightmares, but Becker insists on starting at the beginning. For a moment, she wants to argue with him, but she remembers that she wants him here because he is the best. And he knows what he's doing.

The Type 1 EMD is the smallest they have, but it's still large in her hand as she curls her fingers around the grip. It's heavier than she expected and when she stretches her arm out in front of her, she can feel the muscles in her arm starting to quiver after only a short while. She makes a mental note to add more upper body exercises to her newly started morning routine. 

"The design of these means that they're lighter than a regular weapon of this size and easier for beginners to handle," Becker explains, bouncing his own Type 1 between his hands as casually as if it were a children's toy. Jess knows him better than that, and suspects he's trying some kind of reverse psychology on her – show the newbie how _not_ to behave by demonstrating what could go wrong. Sure enough, only moments later, he "misses" his catch and drops the gun to the floor.

"If that had been primed, it could have killed us both."

Jess bites back a smile at his words and nods solemnly, amused by his unsubtle teaching methods, but unwilling to make him regret agreeing to this.

He runs through dozens of rules about treating the weapon correctly and how to ensure it's safe to use. She doesn't want to remind him that if things have gone badly enough that she's having to pick up one of these again, it's too late for safety protocols.

Eventually, he allows her to stand in front of the paper target. It's moving slightly, thanks to a faint breeze from the air conditioning unit. Neither of them comment, but it probably makes things more realistic – creatures aren't likely to stand perfectly still when she's shooting at them. She holds the EMD out in front of her in one hand, the other arm hanging by her side and stands face on to the target.

Becker comes up behind her. "The first thing you need to do is bring your other hand up." He shows her the way his hands are both curled around together, although only one hand – his dominant one – is physically on the trigger. "It will give you better stability and support when you fire."

She copies his grip, tightening her fingers, trying not to feel the shaking in her hands. She has every right to be nervous, she tells herself. This is a big deal. But she won't allow the nerves to overwhelm her.

"Your stance is already pretty good," he tells her. "Your left foot needs to be a little further forward." 

She wonders if he's noticed her shoes. No longer the ridiculous heels that she loves so much, but lower, more practical ones. Still pink in colour, she's practised and knows that she can run in these as fast as she needs to. 

He moves his body close up behind her, his own foot snaking between her legs to nudge the offending foot into position.

She's thought about this before, about the feel of his hard body up against hers, about the smell of his aftershave as he leans in closer, about the heat of his breath as he speaks in her ear. It's the stuff of fantasies and daydreams though, and right now she doesn't have time for trivialities like that. 

She closes her eyes for a moment and mentally shakes the thought from her mind. She chose her path when she was sitting on the floor of the ARC, helplessly watching her boss bleed to death in her lap. Never again. If that means she has to give up on a romance that was possibly never going to happen, so be it. Life is more than that.

Glancing down, she studies her position, forcing herself to commit it to memory. She twists her hips slightly, feeling the way her body is balanced and understands why this is the correct way to stand. It offers her more steadiness and will allow her to fire without being thrown off-centre. 

"Your right arm should be almost completely straight. Don't lock your elbow though."

She adjusts to his instructions, each movement feeling more _right_ , until he finally steps back out of her personal space and off to her side, barely into her eye line.

"Okay. When you're ready, close one eye and align the sights with the centre of the target. For now you'll want to aim for the body. It's the largest part and will be the easiest to hit."

She narrows her focus along the line, raising the gun to the perfect position. She has everything concentrating on the concentric lines of the target. The future predators didn't have anything as obvious as those circles, but she remembered aiming directly at its head. She wonders now if she should have aimed for its body like Becker's telling her. 

"Although shooting the body of some of the creatures we've faced is pretty pointless," he adds as though he has been listening to her thoughts. "There was more than one of them that had natural armour of sorts. But we can worry about improving your aim once we have you confident in the basics."

Pushing away thoughts of predators and dinosaurs, she doesn't wait for Becker's instruction to fire. She knows to squeeze the trigger gently, rather than jerking it, and she keeps her breath as steady as she can. Her gaze is still focused tightly on the target, at the centre of those circles.

Her finger moves slowly, almost imperceptibly slow. 

The sound from the EMD when she finally triggers it is louder than she expects, surprising her and she cries out. She's ashamed of her reaction, but she hears Becker chuckle and turns to look at him.

"These are a lot louder than a traditional weapon," he tells her. " You'll learn to anticipate it better if you keep practising."

They both turn to look at the target and Jess is expecting to see the paper unblemished, her shot probably having gone ridiculously wide. But there, just off to the left of the centre is a dark scorched area. 

The EMDs won't tear holes in the targets, but Matt has ordered special paper targets that will leave a visible mark where the EMD hits, and this one is hers.

Her eyes widen as she sees how close to the centre she actually was, and she wonders if the shock from the sound had thrown her off course at all. Becker presses the button on the wall next to her and the paper target moves towards them. He tears it from the clip and hands it to her.

A trophy, of sorts. 

"I'm impressed," he concedes, sounding surprised. 

She should be offended by his shock, but the truth is that she is equally astounded. She holds the piece of paper in one hand, the EMD in the other, pointed safely at the floor. It's proof, she realises with a smile. Proof that she can be more than just an administrator. Proof that she can hold her own and protect what's important. Proof that she deserves to be here.

Carefully folding the sheet, as well as she can with only one hand, she puts it on the table behind her. Later, she'll find a place to hang it up at home, in her bedroom perhaps, where she can see it each morning when she wakes from the nightmares that still plague her. For now though, she returns to her position in front of the shooting area. 

"Let's go again," she says, resuming her stance and waiting for Becker to reload the target. "I can do better."


End file.
